


The Prince of Panem

by amelia_day



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins, The Hunger Games (Movies)
Genre: F/M, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-30
Updated: 2020-09-30
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:08:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,630
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26737141
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amelia_day/pseuds/amelia_day
Summary: There should be a hard rule: the guy who steals your coffee order is not allowed to be attractive. Or attend the same university as you. Or be royal.
Relationships: Katniss Everdeen/Peeta Mellark
Comments: 58
Kudos: 281





	The Prince of Panem

It was strange how twelve hours could make such a difference. 

This morning, when I’d rolled over in bed to see everything covered in white powder, I’d checked the temperature back home as a comparison. 

A sunny fifty-nine degrees. Absolute heaven compared to the negative three here. 

If I got in my car now, I could be back to North Carolina and blue skies in just twelve hours. Weird. 

As far as cities went, Cambridge wasn’t bad. Ask any of my roommates and they would tell you how  _ awesome _ it was to be just a few miles away from Boston and the endless entertainment options that came with a metropolitan city. If only I had time for trivial things like  _ fun. _

As a sophomore in one of the most prestigious law programs in the country, I hadn’t known the word ‘fun’ since spring break my senior year of undergrad. The furthest I’d explored the city I’d called home the past two years was one block down from campus. And that had only been for study group.

A sharp gust of wind had me giving the scarf around my neck another loop before I buried my head into its cozy material to starve off the chill.

Mid-February in Massachusetts. Got to love it.

Up ahead, the bright white siding of  _ Tatte Bakery  _ offered a warm welcome, and my mouth watered at the thought of the goodness that waited inside. Tatte’s was definitely a point in Cambridge’s favor. 

“Are you listening to me, Katniss?” 

“No,” I groaned, earning a laugh from Cinna as he walked beside me down the snow covered path. “I’m thinking about chocolate croissants.”

“I forgot how useless you are when you’re hungry.”

“You have a bad memory,” I quipped. “You’re going to make a horrible lawyer.” 

“Jesus, I know.” He slung an arm around my shoulder, pulling me in tighter. “At least I have you. You can build me a shack in the back of your fancy house and I’ll grow old there with my cat.”

“Hmm. Sounds lovely.”

“Since I’ll be poor and unable to pay rent, I’ll make you nice clothes instead that you can wear to court and...I don’t know, banquets.” 

“Deal.”

Cinna and I met back when we were clueless Freshmen, herded out front of the main law building for orientation. We’d been put in the same group for relationship exercises and quickly bonded over our mutual anxiety for anything social. Meeting him was the first relief I felt since leaving North Carolina.

Ours was a program where trust wasn’t acquired easily. We’d seen countless peers screwed out of opportunities and grades due to the shark-like behavior of others and quickly forged a pact to stick together and navigate the rough seas to graduation.

It was a drunken night of mid-term studies when Cinna told me he never wanted to be a lawyer. He wanted to go into fashion design. But his  _ Harvard Law Alumni _ parents would hear nothing of it. 

_ “I’m pretty sure the only reason I’m here is because my last name is Hildebrand,”  _ he slurred, staring up at the ceiling blankly.

_ “The only reason I’m here is because of a scholarship.” _

__ He was the first person I’d told that to. 

It was true, though. While most of the students here received tuition help from their parents or trust funds, I’d only been lucky enough to take the acceptance because of the scholarship papers I spent countless sleepless nights writing. 

Forget first generation Harvard student. I was a first generation college graduate. Period. 

Just a low-middle class minority who was dumb enough to still believe in childhoos dreams. With a passion for persuasive argument, of course. 

“I  _ was _ talking about what a hardass Professor Abernathy was being today,” Cinna continued, holding the door open for me as we crossed the threshold into Tatte’s. Heated air caressed my face as I inhaled the sweet scents surrounding us.

“He cold called on me in the middle of lecture. And while I was on Tinder, nonetheless.” 

“The nerve,” I snorted. 

He gave a casual shrug before stepping up to the counter to order his coffee. Dark roast, black. Absolutely no sweetener in it. I had no idea how he managed to swallow the stuff, but he joked about it contributing to his chest hair.

“What’ll you have?” he asked, turning to me. “My treat.” 

“A cinnamon latte and one chocolate croissant,” I said, holding my card out before Cinna could reach for his to pay. He gave me a hard look before conceding graciously.

“And they say chivalry is dead. Grab my order when it’s done, will you? I’ve had to pee for the last hour.”

I nodded, moving down to wait near the pick up counter where the barista was furiously rushing to fill drink orders of impatient students waiting to refuel between classes. 

Through the pocket of my coat I felt my phone buzz and pulled it out to find a new message from Madge, wondering where I was. We were supposed to review the case studies from last weekend before Abernathy’s class. 

I sent her a quick snapshot of the bakery and smirked at the heart eyes she sent back.

**Madge (1:00 pm)** Don’t be late. Abernathy will lock you out.

_Me (1:01pm)_ I won’t. I still have an hour. 

**Madge (1:01pm)** It takes a good twenty minutes to get to the lecture hall from Tatte’s. Trust me, I know.

_Me (1:02pm)_ Don’t underestimate the speed in which I can power walk.

**Madge (1:02pm)** Lol. So that’s how your legs stay so skinny.

“Cinnamon latte up!”

I smirked to myself before putting my phone back and stepping forward towards the counter. I’d barely managed one step before halting abruptly, cut off by a tall man with even strides who pressed in front of me to grab the drink.

Phone pinched between one shoulder and his ear, he was speaking what sounded like Italian into it with impressive speed. Melted snow collected on the back of his wool peacoat and he pulled one leather glove off with his teeth to pour more cream into the cup. 

_ My cup. _

__ “Excuse me,” I said, tapping his arm. “I think you have my drink.”

He turned to cast me a quick look over his shoulder, unimpressed, and eyed the cup curiously before firming his grip on it.

“I don’t think so.”

Was he joking?

“Well, I just ordered it,” I tried again, keeping my voice friendly but firm. He’d all but ruined it at this point, but it was the principle of the matter.

“So did I.”

“Really? Because you just walked in, so--”

“Mobile ordering, darling.” His accent boasted the fact that he wasn’t a local. Not just to Boston, but to the states in general. It sounded British. When he turned around to face me fully, taking a daring sip of my drink and asked, “Any more questions?” 

The air rushed out of my lungs. 

His face was one I’d seen one hundred times before. Never in person but everywhere else. Taking advantage of my stunned expression, he spoke something else into the phone I couldn’t understand before slipping past.

“I’m in a rush, you understand, right?” He didn’t bother to wait for an answer before turning around back towards the barista. “Do you have any danish left?”

The poor girl practically sputtered as she looked up at him with wide, dazzled eyes and I felt my frustration growing. 

“Uh, um. No, but we have croissants.”

“That’ll work.”

She thrust the bag in her hand towards him without thought and he slid a green bill across the counter before gifting the rest of the workers behind the counter a quick nod.

“Always a pleasure.” He stopped mid-step to look down at me, far too amused with himself. “And you. Try to cheer up. It’s not as if they’ve run out of coffee.” 

He offered me a bright smile, one that showed off a matching set of dimples and I stood in stunned silence as he made his way out the main doors of the bakery. 

“Large black coffee!”

I shook my head, anger returning to me as I processed what just happened, and moved to quickly grab Cinna’s drink before I lost that one too.

“I’m going to need another cinnamon latte,” I grumbled as I slipped a cozy around Cinna’s cup. “And we’re still waiting on a chocolate croissant.”

The barista still appeared a little dazed, but nodded quickly towards the bakery counter to collect another pastry for me. From across the way, I could see her cheeks redden. The look of dread on her face.

“I’m so sorry miss, we’re out of chocolate croissants.”

That son of a bitch.

“What’d I miss?” Cinna asked, appearing from the bathroom to grab the cup from my hand, gratefully. 

“I can offer you almond, or cheese,” the barista continued nervously.

“Tough break. They’re out of chocolate?” Cinna asked, trying to fill in the blanks.

“No. The Prince of Panem just stole mine.” 

“Did the Duchess of Wales steal your wallet?” he laughed, nudging me playfully before realization that I stood there silently dawned on him. His eyes widened. 

“Wait, you’re serious?”

I nodded stiffly.

“Peeta Mellark was in here?”

“Yep. Took my coffee too.”

“You lucky bitch.”

“Am I?  _ Am I?”  _ The only thing that had gotten me through my mornings lecture was the knowledge that after it I could treat myself to a flaky baked good doused in milk chocolate. But that was too pathetic to admit out loud. 

“I’m glad you find this amusing,” I muttered as Cinna laughed his way over to a table in the center of the bakery. After collecting my drink, and assuring the still stunned barista that despite my face I didn’t want to kill her, I pulled out a chair to join him.

“What’s amusing is that in my two years of being here, the two most frequently asked questions I get are:  _ Are you a law student? _ And  _ Have you met Prince Peeta?  _ Today, my bladder kept me from being able to answer  _ yes _ to both.”

“Yeah, well, you’re better off for it. He’s a total jerk. Not that I’m surprised. He’s probably never had to wait for a drink a day in his life. You should’ve seen how he just waltzed up to the counter speaking Italian and sipping my coffee.”

“He speaks Italian?”

“Focus.”

“I’m not surprised,” he sighed. “The hot ones are always douchebags. I always tried to give him the benefit of the doubt, but I guess the tabloids are right.”

As if to prove his point, he turned his phone towards me, flashing the freshest news article with Peeta’s hauntingly charming face as the headline.

_ Panem’s audacious Prince up to no good during his visit back home. _

I scoffed and took a sip of my coffee.

It wasn’t as if Peeta Mellark was the only high-society or famous attendee at Harvard. There were plenty. Enough that most students were well trained in the art of ignoring their status and going about their own business. The thing that surprised people the most about his particular presence was that he chose to cross the pond and attend an American school rather than the private university virtually all of his family before him had attended. It had astounded the nation when he chose to decline an offer to Capital in place for Harvard. But it was hardly the most shocking tabloid his face had graced the cover of. 

The youngest prince of Panem had always been a cause for talk. The way he blatantly ignored royal protocols, or his string of escapades documented a few years back from spring break in the Caribbean. He was fun, and exciting and  _ hot.  _ And so normal-seeming. Different from the rest of his strict family. Which I could bet was the last thing his mother wanted to hear American tabloids gossiping about. 

I didn’t keep up much with the Panem royal family. Not the way others did. But it was impossible to be completely oblivious to their existence while sharing a campus with the youngest Mellark. Cinna was right. All anyone back home ever wanted to know about was if I’d seen, or met, or talked to  _ the Prince.  _

I already missed the days I’d been able to answer no. 

“Can you imagine being so pompous?” I questioned with a shake of my head. 

“Don’t be so bitter, Katniss,” Cinna suggested with a wave of his hand. “It’s just a drink.”

_ “And  _ a croissant.” 

* * *

Cinna had been right about Abernathy’s mood. He was on a rampage.

Madge and I watched as he left three separate students locked out of lecture, seeming not the least bit phased by their knocks and desperate jiggling of the handle. By the fourth time it happened though, his patience had been capped and he went stomping over to swing the door open.

“Stop knocking. The door is  _ locked. _ You are  _ late _ . Get that through your tiny, pea-sized brain and have the common decency to show up to my lecture on time!” When the door slammed shut, it reverberated through the hall, leaving a deafening silence in its wake. 

He ran a hand through his dark hair, smoothing it, and took a calming breath.

“Where were we?” 

A collective inhale was drawn from around the room as he skimmed the attendance sheet for names to pick.

“Let’s see...Ms. Octavia Greene?” The poor girl sitting off to the side down near front just about turned green at the mention of her name. Reluctantly she raised her hand, and Abernathy crossed his arms. “Summarize the reading from Chapter Eight of your text.”

I leaned back in my chair, relaxing for the moment as her chirpy voice began to recite what must’ve been a written speech. Smart. I should’ve written down notes, too.

“And what was your analysis?” he asked. The girl blinked.

“Guilty, of course.”

Abernathy’s eyebrows raised. 

“Of course?” 

Less sure of herself, she nodded slowly.

“You would be willing to bet the defendant's life on that?”

“...Yes.”

“Interesting. Ms...Katniss Everdeen.” My heart stopped. “Make a case in favor of the defendant.”

Quickly, I racked my brain to recall details of the case from my reading last weekend. Jones vs. State. The case I read through while eating popcorn and stained the pages of my textbook with grease. It was also around the time my one roommate, Johanna, came stumbling in with a girl she’d met from the bar and kicked Madge out of their shared room. I’d stopped reading then to help talk Madge off the ledge when she was stressing about the research paper for Coin’s class.

“Katniss,” Madge whispered next to me nervously when my silence had stretched.

Jones was charged with attempted burglary. Seventeen year old male. Used counterfeit bills to pay at a grocery store.

Yes, I remembered.

“Isn’t it true that the defendant is the oldest of four children?”

Mr. Abernathy paused, confused, before nodding.

“Yes, it is.”

“Four children who lived in an impoverished area known for having low income.”

“What’s the relevancy?” Octavia questioned from the other side of the room, but Abernathy held a finger up to silence her, stepping closer to me.

“It’s true.”

“The item the defendant bought with the counterfeits was over the counter flu and cold medicine. Isn’t there a great possibility that this child didn’t know the bills were fraudulent at all and was simply trying to purchase medicine for one of his family members?”

“If every citizen short on cash paid with counterfeits, our system would collapse,” Octavia countered.

“Yes, but if every citizen had access to free health care--”

“That’s irrelevant. You can’t base a solid argument off of hypothetical's, no matter how compelling. The facts are he is old enough to be tried as an adult. He should’ve known better.”

“Name three differences between a counterfeit and real bill,” I argued. “Off the top of your head. If you paid someone with a one-hundred dollar bill and they gave you change of two twenties and a ten, how would you know the twenties were real and the ten was a fake?”

“There’s a watermark.”

“And?”

She opened her mouth, but shut it just as quickly.

“And?” I repeated.

“He’s seventeen and it’s not his first offense!” 

“Alright, that’s enough for today,” Professor Abernathy intervened. “We’re out of time. Your fire was good, Everdeen, but Octavia is right you can’t always rely on hypotheticals. Facts are needed to win cases. Greene, you need to learn you can’t rely solely on your own evidence. And how to spot a counterfeit bill. Good work today everyone. I expect chapters six through ten to be read and ready for next class.” 

“We’re going to have to change your name to  _ Savage Mellark,”  _ Madge joked as we collected our things. “Cinna would be proud.”

“I’m not in the mood to be messed with today.” 

* * *

**March 3: Charlotte, NC- 68℉**

I scrolled through my phone’s weather app with a sigh, wondering why I tortured myself this way when it was only thirty degrees and raining outside here in Boston.

At least it wasn’t snowing.

At least I saw a bud forming on one of the trees outside the union today.

At least there was only two more months before the semester was over and I could go home.

My internal monologue was cut short when a cup of coffee was placed down in front of me, directly in my line of sight beside my notebook. I looked up quizzically, expecting to see Cinna or maybe Prim standing above me with the offering, but froze instead when it was Peeta Mellark. 

“Hello,” he said, casual as ever. Just standing there with his hand hovering on the chair across from me, like he wasn’t certain whether or not he should grab it. 

His striking blue eyes were hidden behind a pair of dark-framed glasses and his head was free from a hat, showing off just how curly his blonde locks were. 

My eyebrows furrowed when he smiled and I tried to make sense of why he was standing at my table with coffee.

“Come to steal my seat now, too?” I questioned, which made him snicker.

“Would you leave if I said yes?”

“No.” I frowned. “Look, as fun as it is to argue with you, I’m busy. So if you don’t mind…”

“I see you’re preoccupied, but I came to apologize if you have a moment to spare.” He motioned again to the coffee in front of me before pulling out a parchment bag from his backpack with the Tatte’s signature logo stamped on the front. “I even brought a peace offering.”

My eyes narrowed into skeptical slits as I eyed the goods he dangled in front of me.

“Can I sit?” 

He looked genuine enough, though that could’ve been the chocolate croissant talking. His dopey smile had those twin dimples showing again, situated right below the glasses that I half suspected were just a disguise. He pushed them up the bridge of his nose and pulled the chair out when I nodded. 

“I’m serious about the treats. They’re for you.”

“Uh, thanks.” I was hungry. Once I started studying and found a groove, it was difficult to focus on anything else. Hours had passed since I last ate. 

“You were going to apologize?” I asked, unwilling to let him off the hook entirely yet. 

“I’m sorry for being a jerk,” he replied dutifully, like a young boy caught with his hand in the cookie jar by his mother. Or in his case, surely the nanny. 

“Mhm,” I hummed, pressing the drink to my lips with a testing sip.

“I’m used to Lucy knowing my order. Usually she has it ready to go, so I didn’t think twice about it when I heard it called. I really was in a rush. There wasn’t time for me to be stopped.” 

“But there was time for me?” I quipped back. I mean...there was, but that wasn’t the point. I could hear Cinna’s voice ringing through my head.  _ It’s just a coffee. _ But it wasn’t just about the coffee. It was the superiority complex that came with it that bothered me. 

“Sure. You were running late for class. I was running late for a meeting with the Prime Minister of Italy.” 

“Oh, well, clearly you are not a law student if you think running late for class is no big deal.”

“You’re studying law then?” he asked, eyes widening with perceived interest. Around us, the library remained at a respectable level of silence. Most students worked with headphones in or chatted quietly, but all were oblivious to the two of us.

“Yes.”

“A little cliché, don’t you think?” 

“To be a lawyer?”

“To be a law student at Harvard. Sort of the obvious choice, no?”

I opened my mouth to reply, but all that came out was incredulous laughter as I stared back at him with a mixture of bewilderment and surprise.

“Everything about Harvard is a tad cliché, I think you’d agree,” I said, raising a hand slightly up heavenwards, motioning to the grand cathedral-like ceilings, winding cherry wood staircases and matching colliums that lined the main study area of the massive library. A textbook picture of dark academia. Not at all different than what would be expected at such a University. “Though, I’m sure you’ve seen grander.” 

“A time or two,” he grinned. “So, I know your major is law. Your go-to coffee order is a cinnamon latte...are you going to tell me your name?” 

It felt ridiculous not to at this point. 

“Katniss. Everdeen.”

“Nice to meet you officially, Katniss Everdeen. I’m Peeta Mellark.” He extended a hand out towards me and it lingered in the space between us. 

Ridiculous. Everything about this was ridiculous. That he was there, sitting with me. That he introduced himself, like he didn’t already know that  _ I knew who he was.  _ That I was drinking coffee like it wasn’t just purchased by the Prince of a foreign country.

“How did you know I was here?” The words slipped out without permission. Just one more inappropriate thing about the exchange. 

“I came to study too. When I saw you here, sad and coffeeless, I decided to rectify the situation. Didn’t work much, though. You’re still frowning. I’ve never met such an unhappy individual.” 

“Of course not. You could probably have people beheaded for frowning at you.”

He chuckled again, like every sarcastic word out of my mouth was straight from Comedy Central and then leaned forward in his seat.

“So are you saying my peace offering didn’t work, then?” 

“You’re sitting, aren’t you?”

He smiled, pleased. “Yeah, guess I am. Mind if I…?” His words trailed off and he motioned to his backpack, about to pull the tablet inside free.

“Nowhere better to be?” I asked while he continued to unload a few more items and settle in. “Tea with the President?”

“No, we usually take our tea on Tuesdays.”

I rolled my eyes and he snickered beneath his breath.

“I find I’m less likely to be disturbed when I’m not sitting alone. Plus, your surly attitude bodes well for me. It’s like having my own attack dog. No one half sane would dare approach you.”

“Did you just call me a dog?”

He blanched, for the first time, caught off guard.

“No! I--”

“Or are you trying to tell me you’re insane?”

He let out a breathless chuckle and ran a hand through his thick hair. 

“I usually know how to make a better impression than this.”

“I’ll give you a pass this time because you brought me a croissant.” 

“What I meant was, I have this paper to write. It’s getting dangerously close to the due date and could use the uninterrupted time. You don’t strike me as the type that likes to talk much while studying, so I thought I might be able to focus.”

“Fine. You can stay. But you’re right, I don’t talk while studying.”

He dragged a finger across his lips, miming locking the key before turning down to face the tablet again. He’d no more than picked up the stylus pen and began swiping through a lengthy document before I asked, “Don’t you have a house or something you can study in? It has to be easier than--”

He raised a slender finger up to his lips, tapping it there twice before lowering it back down to clutch his pen. 

I ripped off a piece of my croissant and suppressed a moan when it practically melted in my mouth. The pastries were the sole reason behind why I’d gone up a pant size since moving to Boston, but I’d be lying if I said they weren’t worth every calorie. 

Peeta and I continued to work in silence across from each other, as if it were something we did all of the time. I could just imagine the look on Prim’s face if she knew. Any one of my roommates would more than likely have a heart attack, but sitting across from him, in his Ralph Lauren cable knit sweater and the plaid button up that poked out beneath the neck and sleeves of it, he looked no different from any of the other well off preppy students who strolled around campus.

It was easy to pretend he was nobody different. Just a regular college student stressed about paper deadlines.

Not a Prince. 

I inhaled deeply and tapped my pencil against the table, determined to stop staring at him and get some of my own work done.

* * *

The one thing that gave me solace these days, was knowing that it was almost unanimously agreed upon that Freshman and Sophomore years were the hardest. One more semester, and evidently I would be on the easy path to graduation. The nights of reviewing case studies until three in the morning and running on the barest of fumes during the day would no longer be the norm. That’s what everyone kept saying, but the skeptic in me wasn’t celebrating yet.

I glanced at the clock in the corner of my laptop screen and sighed. The first draft of my research paper on Immigration and Asylum was due by tomorrow at midnight and the three pathetic paragraphs I’d managed to write sat in my document haunting me, the cursor blinking accusingly. I could practically see Professor Coin’s disapproving stare as she reviewed my paper, ticking a point off for every rushed, half formed sentence. 

I needed to focus.

And all I could focus on was Googling Peeta Mellark. 

I scrolled through article after article about the royal prince, each ranging wildly in topic. From charity projects in India, to his brother's Coronation ceremony held three years ago, to the out of control party he held at his summer home in Spain. 

Honestly, what did a twenty-six year old man need with a summer home in Spain, anyways? 

After today, I preferred to think about him that way. If I had to think about him at all. Unshaven, intoxicated with half naked girls dancing around his massive pool. A dick. Not the sweet smiling, orphan hugging man who took mission trips to India. 

“What’re you looking at?”

I snapped my laptop shut on instinct and spun around my in chair to face Prim, who stood casually in the doorway with a bowl of cereal in her hand.

“Nothing.”

“Porn?”

“What? No.”

“I do,” she shrugged. “Nothing to be embarrassed about.”

“Do you really think I’d be sitting at my desk in our room with the door wide open watching porn?” I asked, earning a giggle from her before she stepped closer to open up the screen of my computer.

“Ohh, Prince hottie. I didn’t take you for a fan.”

“Trust me, I’m not.”

Prim had been one of the four other girls I’d shared a dorm apartment with since Freshman year. Back then, we had all been randomly assigned to one another, which was how we ended up with Prim, the med student, Johanna--a business major--, Glimmer who was in design school and Madge and I, who were both in law. All sharing one roof. 

Last year, Madge, Johanna and I all shared one room while Prim and Glimmer took the other. But Glimmer liked to vlog regularly and took daily videos of herself doing even the most mundane things, like putting on makeup or doing 5am yoga. Poor Prim spent half her nights curled into my bed just to get a few hours of decent sleep. 

So this year when the option had presented itself for us to move into a nicer dorm with three bedrooms, we quickly jumped on it and all voted to let Glimmer have the single room. Prim and I shared one while Johanna and Madge bunked in the other. The walls weren’t thick enough to block out all of Glimmer’s noise, but it helped some.

She got most of her following from click-bait titles like  _ A day in the life at Harvard University (Prince Peeta eats at the same restaurant as me!!!),  _ and then it was just a video of her eating at the dining hall talking about how a friend of a friend claimed to have saw Peeta Mellark eating there earlier in the week. Pathetic how it worked, but I had to admire her hussle. She brought a pretty penny in on those stupid videos. 

“Who’s a fan of what?” Glimmer asked, popping in at the tail end of the conversation. 

“Nothing, Katniss is just perving on the Prince.”

“Yum. Did you see that one picture of him shirtless from last summer? I think it was on someone’s Instagram. Let me check,” Glimmer said, scrolling through her feed in search of the photo.

“Get out. I have work to do. I was only--”

“He’s coming!”

Madge sprinted past the bedroom and to the door leading down the hall and outside of campus and suddenly we were all rushing to the window like a bunch of teenagers. 

From down the path, a small speck of attractive man was slowly getting closer to our dorm building.

What had started out as a harmless conversation one afternoon about the babe that went running by our apartment every day had slowly turned into something resembling stalkering.

And they thought me Googling Peeta Mellark was bad.

Still, I had to admit, Mr. Tall, Dark and Handsome was fun to look at. But Madge had stalked the window like clockwork for the past month, trying to meticulously plan a spontaneous meet up with him to no prevail.

We watched as he jogged past moments before she came sprinting out of the building. From three stories up, I could still see the way she stomped her foot in frustration before jogging down the path after him.

“What is she ever going to say if she catches him?” I questioned.

“I’m not sure, but if I were her, I’d save this story for the wedding.” 

* * *

That Friday, Prim was invited to a gathering held at the Director of the Medical Program’s home. Only fifty students in the program were invited to attend, and despite it being an invitation it was made clear that attendance wasn’t optional.

For some reason unbeknown to me, I agreed to be her plus one. It was one of those moments where the commitment hadn’t seemed like much at the time, but now that the date was here and I was expected to attend, a sense of dread had washed over me. A million things were on my to-do list to complete before the weekend was up, and I would be out all night with Prim instead, at a party for a major I wasn’t even in.

“You owe me,” I reminded her as I untwisted my mascara wand.

“Shut up, I already feel like I’m going to throw up.” She’d changed three times, from a sparkly attention grabbing dress to a pant suit before finally opting for a sleek and classic black dress that formed well to her body. Still, I wasn’t positive that at the last moment she wouldn’t ditch it. The way she stood in the mirror studying herself with a look of anxiety didn’t bode well for leaving here by seven like she’d originally planned.

“It’s just a dinner,” I reminded her gently.

“It’s more than a dinner. It can decide my entire future, Katniss. The head of the department is who makes recommendations for my internship after graduation. If I don’t get into a good internship program then I’ll have no hopes for my residency. And if I drop the ball on my residency I can kiss a decent fellowship goodbye. And if I don’t--”

“Prim. Get a hold of yourself. Unless you get drunk and throw up on the woman, I doubt tonight is going to make or break your medical career. Just...breathe.”

She let out a long breath and nodded, seeming to come back to reality as she moved towards the closet to collect a pair of shoes.

“I’m just so nervous.”

“I know.”

“Thank you for coming.”

“You’re welcome.”

“I’m going to need a massive drink after this.”

“I know.”

+++

Back in North Carolina, when someone mentioned a party it usually involved cases of alcohol, beer pong on the front lawn, music loud enough to leave your ears ringing until morning and an inevitable hangover.

That’s not to say no one ever threw parties. The undergrads especially knew how to have fun, but usually that meant going out into the city on weekend nights rather than risking things getting out of control on campus.

For us in graduate programs, it usually entailed someone playing the harp in the corner of the room while cheese platters and wine were served. 

The setting inside of the Medical Program Director’s house sounded quaint and cozy, but the reality was that the first floor of her home was larger than any other I’d stepped inside of. I followed behind Prim as she moved gracefully from one room to another, engaging in quiet chatter with her peers and superiors all while somehow managing to shine while staying humble. 

“Primrose, I’m glad you could make it.” A tall and slender woman with dark skin and hair pulled back in a sleek ponytail extended a hand out in greeting towards Prim.

“Dr. Paylor, it’s an honor. Thank you for inviting me tonight.”

“I’d like to introduce you to my niece. She’s a resident at Massachusetts General.” 

She guided her off, and taking it as my cue not to follow, I made my way over to the banquet of food overflowing from the dining room. 

I’d barely wrapped my hand around a glass of wine when I felt the heat of a voice behind me.

“Careful, the wine will sneak up on you.”

“Jesus,” I whispered, startled. “That’s not the only thing.”

Peeta Mellark smiled from where he stood behind me, slightly more dressed up in a tailored navy suit and preppy tie tucked into it. 

“Fancy meeting you here.” He brazenly plucked one of the wine glasses off the display and sipped it liberally. “You lied to me, Katniss Everdeen.  _ If  _ that is your real name.”

“Lied?”

“You told me in the library you were a law student. Unless you’ve gotten lost on the way to another party?”

“No. I’m here with a friend. She’s the future doctor, not me.”

“Ah.”

“But, it does seem like an odd choice for you to be a med student.”

“Does it?”

“Well, yeah. Given your...other occupation.”

He laughed, like it was a joke and leaned in closer to me. 

“And what occupation might that be?”

“I don’t know, ruling a country?” I quipped back, tired of him making me feel stupid.

“Princes don’t rule countries,” he said with a tisk of his tongue. “Kings do. And I am not a King. I’m not a med student, either. Seems we’re both plus ones tonight.”

He tilted his chin to the other corner of the room, where a leggy blonde with fur draped over her shoulders sat surrounded by a small group.

Another well-known face roaming the halls of Harvard. Cashmere Windsor, Dutchess of Cambridge. Prim had mentioned her being in the law program, but I hadn’t stopped to think about what that meant in relation to Peeta until now. 

“Interesting,” I said quietly. 

“It interests her. Hobby of the moment, I suppose.”

“Someone’s career is her hobby.”

“Ridiculous, init?”

_ “Init,” _ I repeated, in his regal accent that dripped of superiority and class. For a moment he stared at me, stunned, before he broke out in laughter, charmed apparently by the royal jester from America.

“That’s the worst imitation accent I’ve ever heard,” he accused. 

“It isn’t all that bad,” I tried again, only adding to his amusement. 

“You sound like a wounded animal. I should be offended.”

I snorted, taking a sip of my drink, feeling looser from just half a glass but aiming to keep in check so as not to embarrass Prim.

“Hey babe.” Cashmere appeared by Peeta’s side in an instant, wrapping a slender arm around his middle and pressing herself tight against him. “I see you made a friend.”

“Ah, Cashmere this is Katniss. Katniss…” he trailed off, motioning stiffly to Cashmere who eyed me up and down once before smiling tightly.

“Charmed. You must be lovely, I haven’t seen Peeta so talkative in months. I should thank you for bringing him out of his shell.”

“Cashmere,” Peeta muttered, clearing his throat.

“What? You were afraid you would have no one to talk with. So silly, isn’t it? A man who’s done his level of public speaking, anxious over a party.”

The air felt tense with her presence, and I sensed despite the ever-present smile that things were not as friendly as she was making them out to be. I eyed Peeta, who’s cheeks were pink as he took another sip of his drink.

“Peeta, I hate to steal you away but I have some friends I’d like for you to meet.” 

“Right, then.” His eyes lifted towards me and he gave a quick nod. “Katniss, nice seeing you.”

“You too, Peeta.”

+++

“So, when were you planning on telling me you’re friends with Peeta Mellark?” 

I stared back at Prim through our shared vanity mirror as I removed my earrings, painting my face into a neutral expression as my eyebrows pinched.

“What do you mean?”

“You two were talking and laughing for like a half an hour. Last I knew he was the jerk who stole your coffee. What changed?”

“He...apologized. In the library.”

“There was a  _ library  _ run-in?”

“Why are you making this a thing?” I asked, spinning around in the chair to face him fully. Prim bit her lip. 

“I’m not.” 

“You are. You’re getting all...squealy the way you and Madge do when you’re discussing first dates. He’s dating Cashmere, so it’s not a thing.”

Not to mention we were leagues apart.

Not to mention he was a damn Prince.

“Yeah. Cashmere.” She stuck out her tongue with the grace of a five year old rather than that of a potential doctor and fell onto her bed in the opposite corner before hugging a pillow to her body. “She doesn’t seem like his type.”

“You know his type?”

“Well, just based off of past beaus. He tends to gravitate towards darker features. Darker skin, darker hair, darker eyes. Sort of like…”

“Stop.”

“You.”

“I have a better chance of Chris Pratt showing up and asking me on a date.”

That got a laugh out of her, and I took advantage of the moment to switch the attention off of me and point it back towards her.

“Get your second wind, Primmy. I think I promised you a drink.”

“Hell yes!” she squealed, running out the room to gather up the rest of the girls. I wasn’t usually one for outings, especially to the bar.

But tonight I could use a drink. 

* * *

Nearly three weeks passed before I saw Peeta again.

Budding trees had begun to blossom and there were more days than not that I didn’t need a coat. 

Midterms were rearing their ugly head, just one week out before the glorious promise of a week without classes, when the college closed for spring break. I would have more homework than even the most studious person could manage to finish, but at least it would allow me time to play catch up without more work appearing on top.

I was in the library, earbuds in and head buried into my laptop when a coffee slid across the shiny wood table. When I looked up, Peeta was waiting there with a sheepish smile on his face.

“You know, you don’t have to bribe me every time you want to study,” I said, pulling free one of the earbuds. 

“I find it’s better to feed the hound before approaching.”

“I’m really going to need you to stop calling me a dog.”

He snorted, pulling the chair out without further invitation and making himself comfortable. 

“No more parties?” he quipped.

“Busy. Midterms are next week.”

“Probably for the best.”

“Yeah. Your girlfriend didn’t seem to enjoy my presence much.” That got his attention. Peeta looked up at me from beneath his glasses, lips pressed into a tight line that made it impossible to figure out what he was thinking.

“Sorry if I made anything weird between the two of you.”

“Katniss, you’re hardly my first female friend,” he deadpanned. “I am allowed to have friends, don’t you think?”

“No, of course but…” I paused, biting my lip. “We’re friends?”

“Aren’t we?”

“I don’t know,” I admitted. We were friendly, sure, but when I thought of my friends, Peeta’s face was far from being at the top of my list. I wasn’t sure meeting up sporadically to sit in silence at the same table in the library constituted as friendship. Cinnamon lattes included or not. 

It wasn’t the answer he wanted to hear. His lips fell into a frown and he studied me for a moment before straightening his back in the chair.

“I don’t even know your major.” I could’ve found it easily enough. Any answer I wanted about him was a simple Google search away, but after the first time I’d done it a few months back, I felt gross and had vowed not to again.

“It’s international studies.” 

“That’s...appropriate.”

“Are you hungry?”

My eyes shifted, brain trying to catch up with the sudden change in conversation. 

“I’m starved.” He leaned back in his chair, patting his stomach before clasping his hands together. “Let's get something to eat.”

“I’m not sure Cashmere would like that.”

“Katniss--”

“I know you’re allowed to have friends, but I’m just--”

“You don’t need to worry about Cashmere. We broke up.”

I blinked, unsure of what to say.

“Don’t look surprised. We were hardly a match made in heaven. My mother was more disappointed than I was.”

“Well, that’s...good then?”

“Yes, Katniss, it’s good,” he laughed. “So, you’re all out of excuses.”

“...I could eat.”

+++

The sun had just set as we walked out of the main building, casting dark shadows in the sky with the very last touch of light. A cool breeze brushed the trees that we passed under, skidding leaves over the tops of our feet as we walked. 

The streets were quiet, with only the occasional student briskly walking by us on their way somewhere else. When the constant rhythm of footsteps continued behind us, I threw a casual look over my shoulder to see two men several paces back following us.

“Don’t worry, they’re here for me,” Peeta snickered. 

“I’ve never seen them before.” 

“They know how to be discrete. Often there’s not much of a need for them on campus.”

“Not many fans?” I mocked and the corners of his lips turned up. 

“Not many who have the time or energy to keep up with my gossip.” 

“Must be different here than back home.”

“Yes,” he admitted with a nod. “In some ways. There’s still expectations of me here, but they differ largely from those back home.”

“Do you miss it? Panem?”

“Sometimes. I miss the food,” he smiled. “And the scenery. It’s greener than it is here. Lots of open space. The Capital is a city, of course, but I prefer fresh air.”

“Have you ever visited other states?”

“Of course.”

“North Carolina?”

He frowned before shaking his head. “No, afraid not.”

“Hmm. You should, sometime.”

“That’s where you’re from?” 

I nodded.

“And it’s where you’ll return after you finish schooling?”

“I’m not sure,” I replied, honestly. “It just depends.” 

“On what?”

I looked up when Peeta stopped in front of a small burger shop. It had the specials painted on the window in marker and a tavern feel on the inside with low lighting and music.

“On what happens, I guess,” I answered absently before noticing him holding the door open for me to pass through. “This...isn’t what I expected when you said you wanted to get food.”

Filet Mignon, maybe, but not a simple burger joint two miles from the University. 

His smile intensified at my comment as he ushered me inside.

“That’s the point.”

Admittedly, I hadn’t had a burger in a while. So long in fact, that it was hard to remember the last time, exactly. My student-budget meant I typically lived off of preservable foods that could be kept within our dorm or what was offered in the cafe. The few times I’d gone out, the focus had been more on drinking than eating and I realized that despite having lived down the street for the past two years, I knew close to nothing about my neighborhood.

“Burgers are so weird,” Peeta said, eyeing the monstrous patty situated in a sea of fries.

“Oh? Not part of the Royal cuisine, huh?”

“Not part of Panem’s cuisine,” he corrected, rolling up the sleeves of his button down shirt as he continued to size up the meal, figuring out the best means of attack likely. “Our most popular dishes feature fish. Chicken is popular, too. Cow...not so much. Too valuable to the farmers to justify butchering. Most of Panem’s middle class are farmers.”

“Please stop referring to the burger as  _ cow _ and talking about butchering it,” I chuckled, “I’m trying to enjoy it.”

“And why are the portions so large? Truly, this thing is the size of my face.”

“Don’t flatter yourself, your face isn’t that big.” That got a chuckle out of him before he finally picked the burger up in his hands and attacked it. Barbecue sauce fell out the bottom and onto his plate and some clung to his lip until he licked it away after finishing the bite.

He looked ridiculous enough that any self-consciousness I had going into the evening disappeared as I picked up my own burger and dove in across from him. He nodded his approval around another bite before slathering ketchup over the top of his fries.

“Next week is Spring Break,” Peeta said, conversationally.

“It is.”

“Any plans to go home?”

“No.” There was too much work to be done here to justify taking the time to fly home. Not to mention expectations that came with being there. It wouldn’t be fair to myself or my family to go just to have my attention split the entire time. 

“You should come sailing with me, then.”

“Sailing?”

He nodded. “On my boat. Weather’s supposed to be good for it.”

“Ah, yeah. Maybe.”

“You know how to swim?”

“Of course,” I frowned, somewhat offended by the question.

“Ever been on a boat?”

“No.”

“Then you have to.”

“Why are you asking me this?” I questioned, gesturing between the two of us. “All of this. To dinner and out boating with you.”

“Because we’re friends.” He said it as if it were the most obvious answer in the world before turning slightly sheepish. “I am severely lacking them here.”

“Why me? I’m sure anyone would be your friend.”

“I’m sure, too,” he chuckled. “But I’m a tad picky, I must admit. You remind me of my best friend back home, Finnick. He doesn’t put up with my shit either. A lot of people do. It’s...refreshing.”

It was maybe the first time in my life I’d been told my universal skepticism and introverted tendencies was refreshing. 

“I’m picky too,” I said with a shrug, which made him smile while looking down at his food. “Okay fine, I’ll go on your stupid boat.”

“I’ll text you what time, then and have a driver pick you up.”

“Okay.”

“Um, Katniss?”

“What?”

“I need your phone number.” 

* * *

“Hmm, let me think. Do I want to spend my spring break studying books in a dusty old dorm room or do I want to spend it sailing on a boat with the Prince of Panem?” Prim asked sarcastically before a pillow was thrown across the room at my head.

“Hey!”

“Katniss, this is probably the most exciting thing that has ever happened to me, and it’s happening to you. Stop whining like it’s such a hardship to spend the day with a  _ freaking Prince.” _

“Stop throwing pillows at me.”

She’d been unseditable since the moment I mentioned Peeta’s invitation for next week. The fact that I hadn’t immediately accepted it too, was slowly driving her mad.

“Do you think any of his friends will be there?”

“He didn’t say, Prim.”

“But you think they will, don’t you?”

“Do I think a bunch of rich royals are going to fly across the world to go boating in Boston with a college student? Not likely. And if they were, I probably wouldn’t be invited. He already told me he’d basically asked me out of desperation. He has no friends.”

“Aw. That’s sad.” Then her nose wrinkled. “So why did he pick you?” 

“My point exactly.”

“He’s coming!” Madge gasped, nearly tripping over herself to throw on her sneakers as she lunged away from her stalker point at the window. She ran down the hallway and Prim, Glimmer and I all gathered at the window to watch while Johanna turned the volume up on the television.

“Turn that down!” Prim insisted, cracking the window open. “We can’t hear.”

“If you have to listen through a window, you’re not supposed to.”

“Shh!”

The mysterious runner came jogging up the path, well-worked muscles glistening under the sun from beneath his well worn tank top. Right as he rounded the path past the apartment, Madge sprung out from the building in the most obvious ‘non-obvious’ way, hoping to catch his attention. She stuck a leg out, stretching out her hamstrings as she looked obliviously up towards the sky, and the poor man didn’t see her foot and tripped right over the top of it, falling onto his face.

The three of us winced in unison, and the commotion was enough to strike Johanna’s interest, who only laughed when she looked down at the scene below.

“Shit, I think he’s hurt.” Prim said, watching the way he rolled over onto his butt to clutch his knee. 

Madge for her part looked like a deer in the headlights. Even from three floors up I could sense her panic as she looked between him and the building, unsure of what to do.

“My roommate is a med student! She can take a look at it.”

“It’s really fine, just an old injury,” he assured her, but even as he moved to stand he could barely put pressure on it without limping.

“No, no. I insist. I’ll get you some water. I’m so sorry.”

“Well...he noticed her,” Johanna whispered.

“She’s bringing him up here!” Glimmer gasped. “Put the dishes away!”

“Wait, my bra’s are hanging on the kitchen chairs drying,” Prim shrieked, rushing over to collect them as we made quick work of tidying up the space in record timing. From down the hallway, we could hear Madge assuring him it was only a few more doors down as we all found different areas of the dorm to occupy while looking casual. 

When the door flung open, and Madge came in supporting the behemoth of a man, I realized none of us would win Oscar’s for our acting performances as we jumped up to help.

“This is Rory,” she said, unable to help the little smile playing on her lips as she got him down into a chair. “I accidentally tripped him on my run. I thought you could take a look at him, Prim.”

“Sure, no problem.” She went into medical mode, bending down beside his leg to inspect it. “Where does it hurt?” 

“I’m a genius, aren’t I?” Madge whispered to me from behind the freezer door while sticking ice cubes into a plastic baggy in an impromptu ice pack.

“You broke his ankle.”

“Did not. It’s his knee that’s injured anyways. But this is perfect. Now he has to  _ stay.” _

At the sound of laughter, I glanced over to find the mystery jogger chatting casually with Prim. Judging by the smile on her face and the laughter coming from them both, it wasn’t about the knee injury.

“Are you sure that’s what you want?” I asked Madge, tapping her arm to grab her attention. She followed my line of sight and sighed audibly, shoulders slumped. 

“Aw, man. Come on, he was my mystery jogger.”

I gave her a loving pat before she begrudgingly went to hand Prim the ice pack to place on his knee.

From inside my pocket I felt my phone vibrate and a traitorous kaleidoscope of butterflies fluttered in my chest when I saw the message was from Peeta. It was a simple boat emoji followed by a sunglasses-wearing smiley, but it made me laugh. 

_ Me (4:30pm):  _ Yes? 

**Peeta (4:32pm):** Does Sunday work for you? 

“Thanks for all your help, Prim. I’m feeling better already.”

“It’s no problem. You should stay to ice it a bit longer.”

“Sure. Let me just text my brother. I’m supposed to be meeting him for dinner soon, that’s actually where I was headed before I met your friend.”

“Sorry,” Madge winced.

_ Me (4:34pm):  _ Yes.

He sent a thumbs up emoji and I rolled my eyes before putting the phone back on the counter. 

“Are you hungry?” Rory asked Prim. “Maybe you should come anyways. Just in case I need a follow up later?”

From the other side of the room Johanna visibly rolled her eyes and gagged.

“Y-yeah, I could eat. Madge? Are you hungry?” Prim asked, bless her heart. 

Rory, seeming to forget the rest of us existed after meeting Prim, turned to look over his shoulder at Madge with a forced smile.

“Just as long as you keep your feet to yourself.”

She groaned, running a hand through her hair, but agreed to go with Prim so she wouldn’t have to walk home alone. 

With the excitement over, and Glimmer back to editing her vlog from her bedroom, I took advantage of the time to get ahead on some assignments. 

Since I had boating plans later that week and all.

+++

I woke up to a commotion in the kitchen and found Madge and Prim giggling in there together. There was a spiraled imprint on my cheek from where it’d rested against my notebook and when I looked at the time I realized several hours had passed and the sun had since gone down.

“Did you guys just get home?”

“Yeah,” Prim nodded, pulling herself up onto the counter. “I think we just went on a double date.”

I turned to Madge, who was biting her lip to keep from smiling, but nodded to confirm Prim’s story.

“Mystery jogger had a dreamy older brother.”

“Rory is a boy, but Gale is a  _ man,” _ Madge said, fanning herself before the two burst out into laughter again.

“Oh, he has a name?”

“Yes. He’s twenty-eight and a mechanic. So manly and blue collar. He had dirt under his nails.”

“That’s gross.”

“He’s a hunk,” she sighed. “And he asked for my phone number.”

“I love that,” Prim continued. “Love a man who isn’t intimidated by a strong, smart woman.”

“So does that mean Mystery Jogger Rory is Prim’s now?” I asked.

“He was Prim’s from the moment he walked through the door,” she scoffed, shrugging the idea off. “Okay, I have to go to bed now. I’m exhausted.”

“Me too,” Prim said, trailing behind her. “Isn’t it funny the way the universe works?” 

* * *

I knew nothing about boating, including what constituted as good weather, but the blue skies and crisp air of spring seemed as good a day as any to spend on the water. 

As promised, Peeta sent a car to pick me up a little after noon, even after I assured him that if he just sent me the location I could drive myself.

**Peeta (11:45am):** Protocol. Sorry, I know it’s weird.

_ Me (11:50am):  _ It’s fine, see you soon.

“I expected a limousine. Or a Tesla,” Johanna admitted as the girls and Cinna all hovered around the window to inspect the ride. 

“Yeah, what gives?” Cinna asked, grasping a cup of tea in his hands. They’d all just woken up. Last night had been a late one, cramming for exams that would be here soon enough and Cinna had crashed on the couch after. 

“Are you sure he’s a Prince?” 

“Maybe he’s going for the inconspicuous look. So there’s no attention drawn,” Madge mused. “I mean don’t get me wrong, a BMW is a perfectly respectable car it’s just--”

“Goodbye!” I called out over my shoulder, making an exit before Madge had a chance to finish her sentence.

A man in a black suit similar to the one that had followed Peeta and I to the burger place held the door open for me until I was situated inside.

“Beverage, ma’am?” he asked, like the Ultimate Uber driver. 

“We’re just going to the Harbor, aren’t we?”

He nodded.

“I’m fine. Thanks.”

The ride was quick, and when we got there, Peeta was waiting on the stern of the boat, one hand holding onto a sail and the other waving me over with a welcoming smile. His forearms were tanned and defined by the way the sleeves of his button up were rolled to beneath the elbow and the shorts he wore had navy sailboats on them, which would’ve been absurd if not so adorably cheesy.

“Ahoy.” He jumped off onto the dock and pushed his sunglasses up onto the top of his head. Without warning he reached out to wrap one arm around me in a hug. I stiffened at the contact, taken off guard, and returned the sentiment with a quick pat on his back.

“Hi.”

“You don’t get seasick, do you?” 

“Your questions are beginning to concern me. Between asking if I can swim and if I get sick I’m worried you’re not the best sailor out there.”

“I’m definitely not the best sailor out there,” he laughed. “But you’ll be perfectly safe. Just checking because I’ve had lunch prepared on the boat. If you’re prone to motion sickness, I thought we might eat at the dock. Otherwise, I had something else in mind.”

“I’m good to go, as far as I know.”

“Great. Then climb aboard!” 

He helped me onto the boat, where the Captain, a few crew members and more men I assumed were there for Peeta’s protection all awaited, and then we were heading out further into the water.

It amazed me that the further we grew from the city, the more it felt like we were somewhere else entirely. The surprise that Peeta had alluded to, I found out, was that it was the perfect season for whale spotting and his boat had traveled enough distance that we might be lucky enough to see some. 

As we stared out at the water in comfortable silence, Peeta turned to me. 

“What do you think?”

“It’s breathtaking,” I admitted. “It’s weird how you can live somewhere and know almost nothing about it. I didn’t know the Harbor was this big.”

“I understand. We get so stuck in our bubble sometimes, it’s easy to forget an entire world lives outside of it.”

I hummed in agreement, looking on at the views in awe for a paused moment before Peeta asked if I was hungry.

We ate a lunch of brie cheese cheese sandwiches, fresh fruit and champagne while laying out on the stern of the boat and despite its simplicity, it was one of the more fancy lunches I could remember having.

“Is this what normal life is like for you?” I teased. “Back in Panem?”

“No. My life isn’t nearly this exciting on a regular basis. You must bring it out in me.”

“Right. It has nothing to do with the boat and champagne for lunch.” I plucked a berry from the platter between us and bit into it with raised eyebrows. “All me.”

“All you.” He cleared his throat, pausing briefly before continuing. “It’s difficult for me to get close to people. To be friends or...more.”

“I can imagine. Given your status.” It was half the reason why being famous had never appealed to me. Besides the fact that it afforded no privacy, there was the constant puzzle of trying to figure out who was genuine versus those who weren't. I felt bad that Peeta never had a say in the matter. 

“It goes beyond my status,” he went on to explain, and the unsure look in his eyes held me captive. “I find it...very hard to open up. To talk,  _ truly talk,  _ with people I don’t know. Doesn’t make me the most inviting person.”

Having dealt with social anxiety myself, I knew it was no joke. Sweaty palms, rushing thoughts...and all you can hear is your heart pounding inside of your chest. It seemed impossible that someone as put together as Peeta could experience those same symptoms, but the way he looked back at me, ashamed almost, made it impossible to deny.

“That makes us two peas in a pod then, I guess.”

“Cheers to that,” he beamed, raising his glass up in quick toast before taking a sip. 

“Is that why you and Cashmere broke up?” I asked, unable to help myself. Their sudden departure still weighed on my mind from time to time. 

“Truthfully? It was a relationship for the public. My mother’s idea. She feels my image needed cleaning up and Cashmere was the girl to do it. I don’t know if she expected for us to fall in love or what, but, some things aren’t worth facing even your mother’s wrath.”

“Is she angry?”

“As far as I know she has no idea. I hope to keep it that way until summer when I return.”

I chuckled. “Well, serves her right for trying to set you up.”

“I’m not sure I understand why it even matters,” Peeta sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I’m not the one who counts.”

“What do you mean?”

He thought a moment, lips pressed into a hard-pressed line before turning back to face me.

“Have you ever heard the expression; the heir and the spare?” 

“Sure.”

“Meet the spare.” He gestured to himself with a self-deprecating expression. “Not even the first spare, but rather the spare  _ to the spare. _ I’m my parents third son. No more than the product of strict laws forbidding birth control in the Royal Family.”

“Peeta, I’m sorry.”

“No,” he said with a wave of his hand. “Nothing to apologize for. I realize I sound ridiculous. A Prince complaining because he is not in line for a throne he doesn’t even wish to rule?”

“I don’t think that’s what you’re upset about.”

His eyebrows furrowed. “No?”

I shook my head.

“No. No child, royal or not, should be told they are the  _ spare.” _

He swallowed heavily and looked away for a moment before nodding his head.

“And what about you, Katniss Everdeen?”

“...What about me?”

“Tell me about yourself.”

I laughed a little, pushing a piece of hair behind my ear.

“What do you want to know?”

He thought a moment before shrugging.

“Anything you’re willing to share.” 

+++

As the sun began to set, we laid out on the trampoline net set above the water at the end of the boat. Temperatures shifted from comfortable to chillier without the help of daylight, and I felt myself give an involuntary shiver before Peeta leaned up on an elbow to inspect.

“Cold?” He asked, already shrugging out from his jacket to wrap it around my shoulders.

“Thanks,” I whispered, looking up to realize our faces were just inches apart. “For...everything.”

He paused, hovering close to me but not breaking the boundaries to come closer. I could count his long eyelashes, they were so close. Saw the way they slowly blinked as his eyes drifted down to my lips and then back up.

“My honor,” he whispered. 

* * *

“Katniss!” 

I woke with a start, heart pounding inside my chest as I fought to orient myself and the source of the squeal.

Prim rushed into our room, right onto my bed with one leg on either side of my body and shoved her phone down into my face. I winced at the sudden light and rubbed my eyes before focusing on the screen.

“What is this?”

“A British tabloid.”

“Is that...my face?” I sat up and Prim scooted off of me, watching with bound nerves as I skimmed the article.

_ Will Panem soon have a new Duchess? Prince Peeta was spotted cozying up to Harvard classmate Katniss Everdeen late last night during a party on one of his boats. She was even seen wearing his jacket! _

__ The photo was of Peeta and I, lying comfortably side by side in the trampoline net. His jacket--the one I was still wearing even now--draped around my shoulders. 

__ “You’re trending,” Prim whispered.

“This is a joke, right?” I asked. “Someone photo-shopped this at the University’s paper? How did they even get this picture?”

“Will you invite me to the royal wedding? It was always my dream to attend one.”

As expected, there was a text message from Peeta waiting for me when I picked up my phone. 

**Peeta (8:42am):** Good morning, Duchess.

_ Me (9:00am):  _ You’re making jokes about this?

**Peeta (9:01am):** Lol, they can be pretty dramatic sometimes. I wasn’t aware that offering a girl a jacket constituted a wedding proposal. I’ll have to be more careful in the future.

Anger boiled inside of me at his ability to minimize it. Besides his messages, I had more pouring in from my mother and Cinna, both demanding to know what was going on, and Prim and Madge singing  _ Hail to the Queen!  _ Around the room. 

“Shut up,” I instructed them, jaw clenched as I turned back to Peeta’s messages.

_ Me (9:06am):  _ This isn’t funny Peeta. It’s humiliating. 

Moments later, my phone lit up but with a phone call rather than a text. 

“Katniss, are you okay?”

“My face is all over the news.”

“I know. I’m sorry. I didn’t anticipate this.”

“Didn’t you? How did those people know we were there, then?”

He was silent on the other end for a long moment. “What are you implying?” 

“Can you honestly tell me that I’m not just your next publicity stunt for attention?”

Madge and Prim stilled in the bedroom, staring back at me with a mixture of shocked expressions.

“Katniss,” Madge hissed. “What are you doing?”

“No,” Peeta insisted, his voice deep and authoritative. “Of course not.”

“I’m not one of your little  _ spring break  _ groupies that dance around in bikinis in exchange for five seconds of fame.”

“I  _ know.” _

__ “I’m a law student. One who happens to take that very seriously and would some day like to find herself at a respectable firm with a good reputation. Now, instead of that,  _ this _ will be the first thing to pop up on Google when someone types in my name!”

“Katniss, calm down, please. Truly, it’s not that big of a deal. In a week--”

“I don’t have a palace and royal family to fall back on, Peeta.” 

If I failed, it was on me. There would be no one there to pick up the broken pieces. 

“Neither do I.”

“Right,” I scoffed, shaking my head. I had to bite my tongue to keep from saying anything else I would only end up regretting, but when I felt like the attempt was failing, decided to hang up. “I have to go. I’ll talk with you later.”

I hung up before he had a chance to say anything and fell back down onto my bed with a sigh. Prim’s words from the other night rang through my mind.

_ Isn’t it funny how the universe works? _

__ Funny wasn’t the word I had in mind. 

* * *

Just because I was able to successfully avoid Peeta for the rest of spring break didn’t mean I was able to escape the boating incident. As Peeta expected, the tabloids had only run the story for a day or two before the next piece of drama came out and saved me from a first page spread. But locally, people were intrigued, and it felt like everywhere I went someone was whispering or staring at me.

“It’s in your head,” Cinna promised, even as I caught him shooting daggers at a nosey students who passed by us as we walked towards the library.

“I don’t want to talk about it anymore.”

“Well, that might be a little difficult,” Cinna winced, nudging me to look up towards the steps of the library.

Leaning casually against one of the massive pillars was Peeta, looking slightly disheveled as the wind blew both his hair and the tie he wore haphazardly. He tucked it into his buttoned dress coat before our eyes met and he took the stairs down quickly to meet me.

“I promise, I’m not stalking you.”

“I know,” I muttered. It wasn’t a stretch for him to have assumed I might be there. 

“I just wanted to apologize. Please.”

“I’m going to go find a table inside,” Cinna said, slipping casually past the two of us. “Take your time.”

I waited until he was far enough away, and the path was practically abandoned to continue talking to Peeta.

“I know you didn’t set up that reporter.”

“No, of course not.”

“But it’s just...freaking me out,” I admitted. “I’m not used to this, any of it. My last boyfriend was a business major that I haven’t seen since leaving North Carolina. Completely ordinary.”

“Are you calling me your boyfriend?” Peeta baited, his eyebrows lifted up and a smirk playing on his lips. 

“I don’t know if I’m cut out for this.”

“Come to my house.”

“What?”

“We can talk in peace. No bodyguards, no cameras…”

“Right now?”

“No, go study with your friend. But if you don’t have dinner plans, you can join me around six o’clock? I’ll pick you up.”

“Okay,” I agreed, and my body went flush when he leaned in to place a chaste kiss on my cheek.

“Okay. See you then.” 

+++

Cinna and I got absolutely nothing finished after news of my dinner plans broke. He insisted instead that we went back to my apartment, where I could find something  _ better than jeans and a sweatshirt _ to wear. The commotion caught the attention of Glimmer, who offered her makeup expertise in exchange for putting me on her vlog. Like she’d ever asked before. 

“No. This is a casual dinner, not the prom. You guys are being ridiculous.” 

“I’m offended. I know how to be light handed with the brush, Katniss,” Glimmer scoffed. “Just sit back, shut up and let me work.”

I did as I was told, and was pleasantly surprised when she spun me around in her chair to reveal a perfectly natural look that hardly felt like I was wearing makeup at all.

When Peeta pulled up in front of the apartment in his sleek black convertible, you would’ve thought that I was Cinderella on her way to the ball.

“Have fun!” Cinna called, pretending to shed a tear as he wrapped an arm around Glimmer. “Don’t stay out too late. Make wise choices!” 

Peeta held the door open for me despite my protests and helped me into the car before hopping into the driver's seat.

“I’m just a few blocks down. Do you like Italian food? I can do pasta and lemon chicken?”

“You’re cooking?” I asked as he put the car into drive and pulled out from his spot.

“I invited you for dinner,” he reminded me.

“Yeah, but I guess I figured you had people to do that for you.”

“No,” he said with a shake of his head. “I live alone.”

“Are you sure you know how to cook?” I questioned, earning a sly smirk from Peeta.

“It’s an important skill. I learned as a boy. From a famous French chef, nonetheless. It’s how I learned most of the language, as well.” 

“Of course you did. Next you’ll tell me you play the cello and speak Chinese.” 

“I only know a handful of words in Chinese, unfortunately.”

“Only trilingual? You absolute idiot.”

“Trilingual?” he asked as we turned a corner onto a quiet street. 

“English, Italian, French.” 

“You did your research,” he chuckled and I felt myself flush.

“No. You were speaking Italian in Tatte’s. The day we...met.”

He looked as though he didn’t remember, but took my word for it. 

“Observant.” He put the car into park outside of a nice looking townhouse. “And I quit the cello. Too boring.”

I rolled my eyes.

The modest outside was only a front for the grandeur of the inside, which stretched further than I could see and had a winding staircase leading up to another floor. 

“Make yourself comfortable. It’ll take a while for dinner to be ready.”

I slipped off my shoes despite the fact that Peeta didn’t, and followed him down the long hallway into the kitchen where he began to gather up ingredients to cook with. 

“You really live alone? Not even a dog?”

“What would I do with a dog?” he chuckled. “Poor thing would be by itself all the time. That’s no way to live.”

“Yeah. I guess that’s true.”

His phone vibrated against the marble countertops and when he turned it over to see who it was, his expression hardened before he flipped it around again and ignored it.

“Do you need to get that?”

“No. It’s my mother. Trust me, she’ll leave a voicemail.”

I couldn’t help but wonder if the call had anything to do with our public blunder from a few days ago. Not being familiar with Panem’s rules and policies, I wasn’t sure exactly how things worked over there but I could be certain that being photographed with an American nobody wasn’t in line with them.

“The other day when we were on the phone, you told me that you didn’t have anyone to fall back on either. What did you mean by that?”

“I was being a touch dramatic,” he admitted sheepishly, a floppy curl falling over his face. “It’s not as if my family will banish me or anything but, they are not the warm and fuzzy type, either. I assure you my presence in the States is hardly noticed back home.”

“That’s ridiculous. Just because you aren’t the first born doesn’t mean you should be any less important.”

“It’s just the way things are. My oldest brother, Bannock, was the rightful heir and groomed from infancy to take over the throne one day. He would’ve made a wonderful king after my father. The accident that took both their lives--may they rest in peace--was devastating for the entire country. People still mourn them and bring flowers to the gates and it’s been three years now.”

I vaguely remembered hearing about it in the news. Panem was a close ally to the States and although separate countries, much of the news surrounding their royal family was broadcast here, too. Back in North Carolina, the University lowered the flags half-mass in grief for the sudden loss. It seemed so far removed then. Sad, of course, but I never thought I would be in the same room as anyone who knew them personally. Least of all, a direct family member. 

“That’s awful.” 

“Hmm,” he mused in quiet agreement. “A week later, my brother Rye had his coronation ceremony to take the throne. A position he never thought he would be in either, but was still well-trained for. Of course I had certain studies too, but the idea of me ever being in line for the throne was laughable. My education did not take top priority. I don’t say this for pity, or because it pains me but rather because it is the truth. I am royal by blood, yes. But I will never be more than that. My children will never hold the title of Prince or Princess, like their cousins do.”

“Maybe it’s for the best you came here,” I said, sourly, which made Peeta laugh loudly.

He pressed his glasses up higher on his face and smiled, coming around to be on the same side of the table as me. We were just a hair’s length apart, close enough that his warmth was radiating to me and I held my breath. 

“You are so strange.”

“The words every girl dreams of hearing,” I joked, somewhat breathlessly as he pushed a piece of hair back behind my ear. 

“It’s a compliment. Truly. I’ve never felt important a day in my life but you, Katniss. You make me feel important.” 

“Well,” I swallowed. “If that’s what it means to be strange...call me strange.” 

His lips found mine without further hesitation, clinging to me for a rushed moment before pausing briefly and making sure it was alright. I wrapped my arms around his neck and pulled him in thoughtlessly, uncaring of the pasta boiling on the stove or the marble countertops beneath me as he lifted me up onto them.

When I pushed his hair back away from his face he expelled a breath and his glasses fogged with our combined breath. 

He tasted so sweet and I wondered how. How had I become the girl who made tabloid headlines and kissed important men behind closed doors? 

Because he was.  _ So important.  _ Heir, spare, it didn’t matter to me. The idea that he’d been made to feel as less didn’t feel possible. 

I didn’t want the kiss to end, because there would be no telling what would come once it did. What realities we would need to face. It wasn’t simple the way two people who shared electricity were meant to be.

The universe was funny like that.

* * *

“It’s only one summer, Katniss. We’ll be back here in two months.” 

“I know. You’re right.” 

As the semester ended, and summer crept on the horizon, Peeta and I mutually decided it was best to put our relationship on pause. He would be busy in Panem all summer, catching up with things that had been missed while he was gone, and I had my own obligations to attend to back home in North Carolina. The idea of carrying on a relationship with a Prince nonetheless across the globe felt impossible. And stupid. When I’d suggested that we take a break, Peeta had nodded solemnly in agreement.

“We’ll pick back up where we left off in the fall then?”

If Cashmere or someone of the like hadn’t gotten to him before then.

When it came down to it, I was just a girl he met at law school. No titles, no family bloodline of worth. Not even a wealthy background to support myself with. We were screwed from the beginning.

“ _ I prefer star-crossed,” _ Peeta goaded when I’d said the very words to him a few weeks back. We were sitting in his car, parked outside of my dorm building but unwilling to part ways. 

“Be serious.”

“I am serious, Katniss. I like you. And it doesn’t matter who I marry or what I do because I’m not in line for the throne.”

“It’s more than that, Peeta.”

“It’s not for you to worry about. Not right now.”

He leaned in to kiss me and I sighed at the contact, soaking in the embrace. 

“You have a plane to catch,” I mumbled against his lips.

“It won’t leave without me,” he teased and I chuckled before pulling back and unbuckling my seatbelt.

“Go. Last thing I need is to get you in trouble.”

He frowned, rolling the window down as I stood up and leaned against the door to peer in at him one more time.

“Have a good summer, then, Katniss.”

“You too.”

He drove off, and it couldn’t have been more than an hour later, when I was laying on my bed to avoid packing and wondering if any of our promises would actually be true come fall, that my phone vibrated with a new text message.

_ Peeta (6:45pm):  _ I’ll have you know Panem is lovely this time of year. In case you ever thought about traveling.

I bit my lip to keep from smiling, holding the phone close to my chest.

**Me (6:45pm):** I’ll keep that in mind...

**Author's Note:**

> Hello friends! This was written for Tumblr's PromptsinPanem in honor and memory of a dear member of the Hunger Games fandom community, Kristen (Baronesskika). If you would like to donate money for her family or beloved places by her, please check out the PromptsinPanem page for more information.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed the story. If so, you may want to subscribe because there may be more in the future :) Stay safe and healthy friends!
> 
> -Amelia


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